Harry Potter:  Almost Chosen
by Tezza1502
Summary: Harry and Neville have a short conversation.  THIS STORY CONTAINS SPOILERS!  READ 'THE DEATHLY HALLOWS' FIRST!  More detailed Author Notes inside.


HARRY POTTER: ALMOST CHOSEN

By: Tezza1502

Disclaimer: All things Harry Potter are © J.K. Rowling. I'm just pushing electrons around for my own amusement. No money is being made by me. No disrespect is intended.

Notes: First of all, **DO NOT READ THIS FIC IF YOU HAVE NOT READ 'THE DEATHLY HALLOWS' YET!** It contains spoilers. This idea occurred to me, like so many do, while at work. I just felt that Neville was not properly thanked for his role in Voldemort's downfall. Anyway, this one-shot is actually the quickest I have put down any idea I have had, so it may suck. So be it.

Takes place immediately after Chapter Thirty-Six.

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Having finished his business in the headmaster's office, Harry made his way down the staircase with Hermione and Ron at his side. Every few steps one of them would stumble slightly with fatigue. When this happened, the other two would brace them until they were steady again. In this fashion, they made their slow way back to Gryffindor tower, taking shortcuts that were ingrained in them to the point of instinct.

Having avoided the throngs of people either celebrating their victory quietly, or mourning their personal losses in the same manner, they arrived at the portrait of the Fat Lady. Finding her absent, they nudged it open and entered the Gryffindor common room.

"They must all still be in the great hall." Ron stated. "The ones who weren't evacuated."

"I guess…" Harry replied softly. They looked at each other, unable to articulate the thoughts whirling through their minds at that moment. They were startled out of their reverie by a cough from the corner of the room. With a three-fold yelp, they spun around and pointed their wands at the source of the noise.

"DON'T SHOOT! DON'T SHOOT! It's only me!" The shadow yelled as the interloper came into the light.

"NEVILLE!?" Hermione screeched.

"Bloody hell, mate. This is _not _the time to be sneaking about." Ron added shakily, wiping the sweat from his brow with a sleeve.

"I-I'm sorry. I just needed a quiet place to rest, away from the others." Neville stammered. "Sorry."

"S'allright. Just…let us know, next time." Harry said, stowing his wand. "We're still a bit trigger-happy."

"O-okay." Neville agreed. Looking nervously at Ron and Hermione, he leant in to Harry. "Do…d'you mind if you and I could talk, Harry. Alone?"

Wanting nothing more than to curl up between the warm sheets of his bed upstairs, Harry was about to ask if it could wait until morning when he saw the urgency in Neville's eyes. "…sure." Turning to his friends, he asked if they would mind giving them a moment.

"Okay." Hermione got in before Ron could open his mouth. "Ron and I will wait for you upstairs." With that, she began shoving Ron towards the staircase leading up to the boy's rooms none to gently, ignoring his protests.

When their voices had faded, Harry turned back to Neville. "So, what can I do for you?"

The other boy brought the Sword of Gryffindor out from behind himself. "I, uh, I figured you would know what to do with this Harry." He said in a small voice.

"Why?"

"Well, it's not mine, or anything. I mean, its Godric Gryffindor's sword, y'know. And I thought someone who's a…a hero an' all should have it. Someone who's what a Gryffindor should be." Neville blushed a bit at having to so describe how he saw the boy in front of him.

Harry looked at Neville in utter surprise. The fact that the teen in front of him saw Harry like that was the least of it. Marshalling his thoughts and ignoring the sword being offered him, Harry replied in a serious voice, "Neville, Dumbledore once told me that only a true Gryffindor could pull that sword out of the sorting hat." Neville sputtered in shock. "And what's more, do you know what you did down there tonight." The boy shook his head in confusion. _"You helped me kill Voldemort!" _

Neville sat down hard on the floor. "What?"

Harry knelt down beside him. "By killing that snake, you allowed me to finish him off for good." Grabbing the other teen's shoulders, Harry leant in. "If you hadn't, there is no telling how tonight would have turned out." Neville's eyes were wide.

Harry continued, "_You _stood up to the darkest wizard that has ever lived, alone. _You _stared death in the face, and you acted without hesitation, Neville. And let's not forget the little rebellion you led here at Hogwarts while I was off gallivanting all over the countryside." Neville squirmed at the praise Harry was heaping on him. "Don't _ever _think of yourself as anything other than a true Gryffindor! Or a hero." Suddenly, a long repressed memory surfaced in Harry's mind. Giving an ironic chuckle, he collapsed to the floor beside a confused Neville.

"What's so funny?" He asked, growing suspicious that Harry was making fun of him.

"What? Oh, nothing. It's just…" breaking the sentence off, Harry looked at Neville. After a moment of consideration, he decided to speak his thoughts. "I…I want to tell you something. It's something I found out a couple of years ago, about the Prophesy." There was no need to explain which prophesy he was talking about. They had both been present when it was destroyed.

"What about it?" Neville was curious, despite his growing fatigue.

"Later that night, I was shown the full prophesy by Dumbledore. Basically, it said that a boy born at the end of July whose parents were members of the Order would be the one who was ultimately destined to kill Voldemort."

"So?"

"When's your birthday, Neville." Harry asked, looking him in the eye.

"Well you should know, it's almost the same as…yours…" Neville's indignant tone disappeared as he made the connection. "What…What are you trying to tell me, Harry?"

"I'm saying that but for Voldemort deciding that I was the greater threat, all this could have been _your _destiny, not mine." Harry finished with a sympathetic look.

Neville's mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. Harry watched him process this information with a small smile, joining him in wondering how it would have all turned out if their places had been reversed. Finally, after a small eon, Neville spoke again. "Um, Harry? Don't take this the wrong way, but I'm glad it wasn't me."

Looking at his fellow Gryffindor in surprise for a moment, Harry burst out laughing. Neville soon joined him.

When they finally wound down enough to gain control, they pulled themselves together and stood up. Brushing off any dust, Neville asked Harry why he had told him that.

"I honestly don't know. Just being selfish, I guess." Getting a confused look, Harry expanded on his statement. "No matter how much I value Ron and Hermione, you and I have an almost identical history. Our parents dead. We were raised by terrifying relatives." They both shuddered. "I guess...it's nice to know someone who understands what it's like to have _that _kind of life. Does that make any sense?"

Neville thought about it. "Sort of."

"As for this-" Harry indicated the sword, "You hold on to it for the moment. Professor McGonagall will most likely be tearing apart the castle looking for it tomorrow, but I think you can keep it safe for tonight." He yawned. "For now, let's hit the sack."

Giving Harry a smile, Neville clutched the sword to himself and started up the stairs that led to their bedroom. Harry followed after setting a few defensive wards. _'No use in getting sloppy now.' _He figured. Climbing the stairway, he nearly bumped into Neville at the top. "What?"

Peering over his shoulder, Harry saw what was making Neville freeze. Ron was perched awkwardly on the corner of his bed with an obviously exhausted Hermione curled up in the middle, clutching his hand as she slept. He directed a helpless look at Harry. "What do I do?" He whimpered. This situation was clearly not anywhere in his copy of _'Twelve Fail-Safe ways to Charm Witches'_.

"Get comfortable?" Harry offered with a smirk. "But no funny stuff, okay! Neville an' I need our beauty sleep." He teased, receiving a pillow in the face for his efforts. Squeezing past Neville, he collapsed bonelessly onto his bed without changing.

Deciding to even the score a bit, Ron asked Harry when he was going to get around to talking to Ginny.

"Tomorrow." He groaned. "And yes, there will be huge amounts of grovelling involved for putting her though hell for the past few months." He sighed.

And on a wave of sympathetic chuckles, Harry drifted off to sleep.

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THE END

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End file.
